Page 78 of Conflicted

“How many more times can you go tonight?”

Nox’s laugh rumbled under my ear, his hands caressing me like he too was trying to fix this moment in his mind. “As often as you need to, little an?—”

He cut off abruptly. I frowned, confused as to why he’d frozen. Then the sex addled cloud cleared and horror replaced it as I realised exactly where Nox’s hand was.

What he was touching.

He’d slid his hand under my shirt and up my back.

My naked back.

Fear reared its ugly head. I shoved away from him, tugging my shirt around me warningly. “Nox, don’t.”

But Nox was past listening.

Flames flickered in his eyes as he jumped from the bed. Heat radiated from him as he reached out and grabbed the shirt. With one easy tug, the material tore in two, the cold air of the room hitting my skin.

Nox’s face was murderous as he glared at me. “Turn around, Micah.”

I shook my head, blinking against the burning sensation in my eyes. “Please, Nox, don’t?—”

“No,” Nox said quietly. The hair on the back of my neck rose at the intensity rolling off him. “Turn. Around.”

I stared at Nox, trying to will him to back down. He held my gaze firmly, and I knew he wasn’t going to let this drop.

Fine. It wasn’t like I’d ever see him again after tomorrow. We’d both agreed this thing between us was over. Maybe him seeing the evidence of my failures was a good thing. It would show him that I wasn’t worthy of him. That I didn’t deserve happiness.

Stiffening my spine, I spun on my heel, revealing the full scale of my shame. “There. Happy now?”

For the longest time, Nox didn’t speak. I shuffled on my feet, wondering if I should just leave.

That was when the warmth hit me. I winced. Fuck, I hadn’t felt heat like that since I’d been in Hell, fighting beside the river Styx.

Was that coming from Nox?

I went to turn around, but a scorching touch stopped me. Nox ran a burning finger along my back, tracingone of the many scars. There was no pain—he must’ve had enough control to keep his flames from hurting me.

I braced myself for his condemnation. His pity. His judgement.

But when Nox spoke, not a drop of that existed. His voice was deathly quiet, but there was a tremble in it that hinted at a storm waiting to be unleashed.

“Who did this to you, little angel?”

18

Nox

Micah didn’t respond, his back trembling under my fingers. I tried to trace one of the marks all the way down, but it was impossible. There were too many others intersecting it. His whole back was a crosshatch of scars, some of which looked recently healed.

Micah clearly wasn’t going to answer me, so I tried a different question. “Why haven’t they healed? I’ve never seen a scar on a supe before.”

“Cursed ointment,” he said bitterly. “It’s taken weeks to get to this point.”

Weeks.I had to imagine that the first few days after these injuries would’ve been torture for him. Given that he’d seemed okay after the battle in Hell, I was going to assume it’d happened after that.

Or, maybebecauseof that?

“Is this a punishment?” I whispered in disbelief. Surely, Heaven wasn’t capable of this level of cruelty. “Did they do this because you took the Seraphim into Hell?”

---